Why One Question Found On Every Job Application Form Is Utterly Pointless
My plea for recruiters to start being honest about our intentions.
Photo Credit: Yuri_Arcurs | iStock
Okay, today I’m going to have a little rant. Just a small one, I promise. And one that is aimed square at those of you who have ever played any part - no matter how small - in the recruitment process.
All I’m asking you to do is admit and accept one simple truth.
Please, please, stop asking why we are applying for your job. You know why, and you need to stop pretending otherwise.
It’s because we have no choice.
I have worked all my adult life.
I had my first job at 16, a Saturday job in a local newsagent. Then I moved to a local library, who paid a little better. From that point, I also always found a job in the school holidays. I worked in a supermarket or local bars. I even had one memorable job cleaning luxury port-a-loos.
My, wasn’t that a fun summer.
But the thing is, I didn’t really need a job at this point. I’m lucky enough to have been born into a relatively comfortable family. I could have easily survived living off my parents until I moved out.
So why did I get a job? Well, there were three reasons.
It meant I was no longer a child.
At least in my mind, having a job was one of the steps from childhood to adulthood. It was a sign of my independence. It meant I was smart, capable of looking after myself, and living my own life.
It helped me get future jobs.
I didn’t recognise the value of this one at the time, but now I see that my parents did, which is why they encouraged me. Working at this age, when I didn’t need to, meant I had something to fill up my CV for when I did. It was proof I was employable.
It earned me money.
As I said, I was lucky enough not to need to work to live. But if I earned money myself, I could spend it on myself. It was mine. Working freed me up, at least a little, from relying on my parents.
And so, from the age of 16 to 21, I worked. Not full time, and not particularly hard.
But then, suddenly, my education was over. It was time to take that final step into adulthood. I was a full-time working man.
But I ask myself again: Why did I do this?
I’ve worked for three separate companies since leaving university:
For six months, I was a runner for a film distribution company.
For seven years, I worked in various areas of digital inflight entertainment.
Then for six years, I worked as a marketing project manager.
And the reasons for doing this were just the same as when I was 16. I was no longer a child, and so needed a job. They allowed me to develop my skills, and therefore increase my chances of finding a better job in the future. And they paid the money I needed to live.
But was the output of any of these roles benefitting me on a personal level? No. Were they jobs I had dreamed of doing? No. Did I ever feel like I was an integral part of something? That if I didn’t turn up one morning, society would grind to a halt without me? No.
So why was I giving up my time and energy for these companies?
Or, or put it more simply, why do we need jobs?
Ultimately, it’s so we can survive.
If we go far enough back in time, the only “jobs” people had were hunting and gathering. Each day was spent ensuring we had enough resources to survive. Eventually, we learned that it made more sense to specialise. Why not send only the best hunters to bring in food while the others built and maintained shelters. So now, there were two “jobs”. One to maintain the shelter in exchange for food. The other to hunt for food in exchange for shelter.
(Thank you for coming to my very well-researched and definitely not pulled out of my ass TED Talk on the beginnings of civilisation.)
When you boil it down, these hunter-gathers worked to survive. And while the idea of a “job” may have evolved far past this point, the basic concept remains the same.
We have jobs so we can afford all the things — food, shelter, etc. — we need to survive.
Not that employers want to hear this.
At the age of 15, I failed my first real job interview. Would you like to know why? When they asked, “Why did you apply for this role?” I answered, “The money.”
This isn’t what they wanted to hear. They wanted to hear how working for their company had been my ambition for years. They wanted to hear how I dreamed of working in their field, and for them in particular. They wanted to hear that I had the drive and ambition to help grow their company and become a true ambassador for their brand.
I felt that this was all a little much for a Saturday job in a local stationery store. I just wanted some extra spending money and was prepared to spend my Saturdays stood behind a till to get this.
But I learned, at this young age, that employers don’t want us to be honest about our reasons for wanting to work for them. They want us to tell them they are special. They want to believe their employees are excited to work for them.
What they don’t want is to admit is that the reason we are there is the fact we need money to live.
Unless you somehow come into a lot of money, having a job is a requirement of modern life.
And yet, where did working for other people get me.
It got me as far as a global pandemic, at which point my employer couldn’t wait to get rid of some of us to protect their company.
And I mean, couldn’t wait. They had the redundancy process going within hours of the possibility of Lockdown being mentioned. They agreed to put it on pause when the furlough scheme was announced. But as soon as that began to wind down, it was decided that six years service to the company was worth less than the long-term saving of not having to pay my salary.
Because at the end of the day, when you work for someone else you don’t matter. The company matters, and the benefits you get from it last only as long as you are useful to it.
And so once again, I was left looking at job application forms that wanted me to explain — in detail — exactly why I had always wanted to work for this specific company, in this specific role.
And I knew the answer to that question. Just as the recruiter knew. And the employer. We all knew why I wanted to apply for this role.
I could do it, and I needed money to live.
And yet, what do you think my chances would have been for getting the job if I’d just said that?
So this is my message to recruiters: please, please, stop asking why we are applying for your role.
I’m not saying we have to address the truth face on. If you don’t want to admit that the only reason people work for you is they need the money, then just don’t bring it up. Leave that question out of the application process. Don’t ask it in the interview.
Let’s all admit we know why we’re here.
Because unless you’re looking for something like healthcare professionals, teachers, or sanitation workers — you know, essential public services we couldn’t live without — the role you’re offering almost certainly doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
There are people in the world who have a dream to work a certain job. They might even want to work for a specific company. And if that’s the case, then let them bring that up. Let it be something that helps put them over the top of other applicants.
But please stop forcing us to pretend working for you is our dream.
Because in 90% of cases, your employees don’t care about your company. They care about your company being able to pay their salary every month. And if working hard will benefit them in this way, they will work hard. They might even enjoy it.
But stop kidding yourself that you’re special.
You’re just another job. And if you can just accept that, it’s going to make everyone a lot happier.
